


drowning, drowning

by lovethybooty



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Awkward Friendship, Coping, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethybooty/pseuds/lovethybooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>because she is drowning in sea of her own mind, her lungs filled with an invisible water that just won't leave.</p><p>OR</p><p>annie wonders whether dying during the games would've been a better option, and finnick just doesn't have the heart to tell her the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drowning, drowning

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago (in November maybe?) and just came upon it. Just a small conversation between Annie and Finnick, set sometime not too long after her Games.
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated.

She mumbles something incoherent, fingers twisting and tugging at curly brown locks.

" _Hm?_ " Finnick asks, sitting up a bit straighter, attention turned her way.

Annie's head snaps up, her eyelids fluttering. "I- Oh... What?"

"Were you saying something?" He looks at the girl, skinnier and paler than she had been as a tribute, and she is the image of a ghost. A girl half gone, the walking dead if he's ever seen it.

She shakes her head quickly, eyes darting about the room, "No, no. I was just thinking. I do that sometimes..."

He nods, shooting her a knowing look. But still, he's not entirely sure if he completely understands. Maybe it's one of those things he never will.

"Finnick?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?" She's fidgeting with her hands again, pulling at the loose strands that hang from the hem of her shirt.

Head nods again, "Shoot, Cresta."

"Do... _Uhm_. Oh, never mind- it's silly."

"No, go ahead and ask. Who cares if it's silly? I like silly," he muses, trying to coax out whatever words seem to be stuck in her throat.

"Well, it's just that..." Annie's voice trails off for a moment- perhaps she has forgotten he's there again, she does that from time to time too. Eventually, she looks up at him and the words spill from chapped lips in one giant, messy jumble. "Do you ever wish you'd died in the arena?"

She speaks fast, but he's certain he picks up her question clearly. He blinks back at her in response, unsure of what to say. That wasn't the type of silly he was expecting. Usually when she asks a silly question, it hums along the lines of his belief in mermaids, or if the guppies sleep at night.

So, does he tell her the truth? _Yes, I wish I'd died in that arena and I wish you had died too._ Or does he flash her the Golden Boy grin and lie? _No. F_ or anyone else, he would just lie and say something cheeky. But she deserves _more_. She doesn't deserve to be lied to, even if she doesn't deserve the truth either. 

Finnick shrugs, offers a half-truth instead, "I guess I haven't given it much thought." It's not quite the same as _no_ , but he silently prays she'll see it that way. It is true though, he likes to believe, because no- he hasn't given it much thought. There has been no need for thinking when the immediate answer will always be _yes_.

Annie nods slowly, trying to process his words. "Oh."

"Why?" Finnick begins, staring at her. "Do _you?_ "

"Yes," she says, and her voice is small. "Had I just ~~drowned~~ ," Annie shakes her head, corrects, " _died_ \- I wouldn't see him, or the others. It wouldn't feel like I'm trapped in fishing net, and I wouldn't feel like there is no air left in my lungs because I wouldn't need to breathe."

Her sentences come out choppy and sloppy. Quick. She takes a deep breath after she finishes, further proof that there would never be enough air to satisfy those swimmer's lungs. It's the most she's spoken to him at once in ages, and yet she still managed to spit it out in under ten seconds.

He's at a loss of words, but he's not surprised. He admires her honesty, truly- at least she's not a damn filthy liar like the rest of them. Pretending to lead a happy life not owned by the Capitol.

"Had you died," he tries after a careful, calculated moment- _because he's Finnick Odair and nothing is ever serious with Finnick Odair_ \- "we wouldn't have been able to catch those turtles in the sand."

At that, she cracks a small smile.

_Is this what true triumph feels like?_

"Guess not," she replies, and with that, she is gone again, her mind whisked off to a place somewhere far, far away.


End file.
